Random Events

I walked into my tutee's kitchen, with the gait of an infant elephant.

I had no conscious desire to move so ungracefully but, somehow, I managed the impossible.

The isle was wide. I had space to move. There was absolutely no reason for me to crash into the fridge, to cause a few magnets to drop and splinter into pieces.

Really no reason to do that.

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When I saw the packaging of the sweets, I knew I had to buy it.

It wouldn't hurt, I suppose, to improve my sense of humour. Many people had commented on it and with good reason. It's time to change. I should stop saying jokes that only I find funny. Yes, change we can believe in.

In my mind, I travelled through space, time and matter to relive moments of embarrassment:

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Guess what the above diagram represents?

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It is a zwitterion! It is positive at one end and negative at the other. (I said this after a JC lesson on organic nitrogenous compounds. No one found it remotely funny.)

My funniest joke was made during Cambodia's OCIP:

"Don't you feel that we are in Disneyland?" I asked as we traversed though the verdant countryside. Everyone was soaking in the tranquil scenery and my words were met with surprise."Huh?""There's Winnie the Poo everywhere. Winnie the POO, geddit?"Indeed, cow dung as big as your face were drying in distinct piles everywhere.

The memories came back to hunt me. I decided to splurge on that bag of nutritionally deficit sweets.

Do take a look at some of the questions:

Q: Which bus can cross the oceans?

A: Columbus

Q: What is a sad strawberry?

A: A blueberry

Q: Why can't the skeleton climb the mountain?

A: Because it has no guts

If you ever see me face to face, beware of my improved sense of humour.

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The kids asked me questions to which I had no answers.

They were looking at my sketchbook, oohing and ahhing at all the right junctures. (It was a trick I found out while working as an ad hoc primary school facilitator: show them the sketchbook and they'll keep quiet for a blessed stretch of time.)

When they saw the above drawing, they asked impossible questions and made impish comments."How come you make the babies cover their penises?""Are the babies both guys? If so they're gay.""Are they having sex?"

I blushed and struggled to think of apt answers. I'm over twenty years old. They're only primary 5 students. Why am I behaving like a Jane Austen character while they're all Sandra Brown-ish?There is a dichotomy somewhere.

And heaven forbids! They kept asking the same questions. It was as though they're canines with a bone that they couldn't let go.

One kid stabbed her index finger at the baby's thigh and repeated her question loudly. Much to the merriment of her friends.